


Larry Stylinson, A History Part 1: Before The Worst

by Lovefatesoulmatess



Series: Larry Stylinson: A History [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, fetus larry, larry stylinson - Freeform, x factor - Freeform, x factor larry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3018899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefatesoulmatess/pseuds/Lovefatesoulmatess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything you weren’t supposed to see from The X Factor series 7 all bundled into one fanfic. </p>
<p>It happened in a flash. In the time that it took for the spotlight to beam over the crowd, in the split second that I was in mid air, singing at the top of my lungs, it happened. We locked eyes. I saw him and my world stopped. I met his green eyes with my blue ones and felt a tug in my gut that told me that he was the one. I will never get over him. I will never be able think or dream or talk about anything that is not him. I reached out for the boy, but then my feet hit the ground as the man behind me pushed foreword. Hannah grabbed my hand, and I lost him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Larry Stylinson, A History Part 1: Before The Worst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finnia](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Finnia).



> so this is the second fic that i've ever written and i would definitely appreciate any feedback. you can talk to me on here or on my tumblr (lovefatesoulmatess)  
> Also special thanks so finnia my editor you're really cool i guess

“Singing’s what I want to do and if the people who can make that happen for me don’t think that I should be doing that, then that’s a major setback in…my plans.” Harry tells Dermot and the camera crew with a smirk. 

Dermot grins before saying, “Thanks for your time, Harry, and good luck!” Then he walks away with the camera crew trailing behind him.

Harry shakes his hair out and rubs under his eyes.  _You can do this_ , he thinks to himself, walking past the audition registration booth into a lounge area overflowing with the other contestants. He leads his group to an empty (enough) strip of carpet, casting a glance at the surplus of contenders in the room. Some look as young as himself, and others appear to be older than his mum.

“Well they seemed to like you.” Gemma says, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“How could they not?” Harry asks, resting his chin on his hand and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh get over yourself,” She rolls her eyes and nudges him with her elbow. “I was going to compliment you, but I see you’ve got that covered.”

“No, please share with the group.” He replies cheekily, even though the only one listening was Harry’s best friend, Will, who had come along for moral support. His mum and Robin were standing to the side, talking quietly. 

“No, I think this is enough.” She says, gesturing to her shirt that reads:  _We think Harry has the X Factor._

“I’ll take what I can get.” He responds with a shrug. 

He glances around the room once more and the sudden realization of where he is and what he is about to do creeps into the pit of his stomach. He’s about to audition for the show that he and his bandmates have watched religiously since they were kids. He’s going to be on live T.V. He’s going to be in front of the entire country, completely vulnerable. He’s going to be standing alone on stage for the whole world to laugh at, for freaking  _Simon Cowell_  to make fun of. And if that wasn’t enough, all of the assholes at his school will see him too. He is seriously starting to rethink this. 

Shortly after coming to this terrifying conclusion, he accumulates a case of NPS (Nervous Piss Syndrome) and excuses himself to go find the toilets.

Harry pushes the door open, shivering from the cold air that he created in doing so. He walks across the room and begins to relieve himself. He’s finally able to pay attention to the thoughts that have been swirling around in his head all day. He surrenders himself to his daydreams that all involve winning the X Factor, becoming rich and famous, and finally being able to buy his mother everything she deserves...but his fantasies mostly involve finding his soulmate through his fame and being able to settle down and raise a family. Though he refuses to admit it, Harry really does long for a relationship and commitment. Of course, he’d have to find a significant other first. . .

 

The sound of running water startles him out of his thoughts, and he jumps as he sees the boy standing next to him washing his hands, effectively getting piss all over said boy’s Toms.

“Oops!” Harry exclaims, feeling his cheeks flush red in embarrassment.

“Hi!” The other boy replies cheekily, pulling his hair out of his face to better see the perpetrator.

Harry looks up timidly, eyes just peeking out from his fringe, his head still hung in embarrassment. But as soon as he gets a good look at the boy standing in front of him, he straightens. Harry knows that face. It was a year and a half ago, but he knows that face. And how could he forget? Ever since his Script concert, all that was on his mind was the mysterious boy that he’d only seen for a millisecond before he vanished, leaving Harry a disoriented mess. Even when he’d stayed behind after the concert and unsuccessfully scanned the crowd to find the boy that he’d only gotten a glimpse of, he still felt a pull inside of him that told him that he was meant to know that boy. That they were meant to meet. You can imagine the crushing feeling that encased Harry for weeks after searching the mob and coming up empty handed. And then being forced to come to the conclusion that he was just being a naive 15 year old boy that was chasing an impossible illusion. . .

And now to have the very thing that has been ravaging Harry’s mind standing right in front of him… it was surreal. So you can’t blame a guy for totally losing himself in the icy blue eyes that were staring right into his soul. In them he saw a flash of something, recognition? No it couldn’t be. It was a year and a half ago that Harry had seen him, and Harry had gotten taller, his hair was longer, his shoulders had filled out, it was near impossible for the boy to even recognize him, let alone remember the split second eye contact that they had made. Yet here Harry is, looking at the boy in front of him who had longer hair as well, along with many differences in his appearance since the last time they saw each other, and Harry is able to remember _his_ face… Namely the arctic blue eyes that he was gazing into at the moment.

It then occurs to him that he should probably say something because it’s been way too long and that he should have replied a great deal of time ago, but all he could think was  _I found him. I found him. I found him. I found him._

Whatever the other boy was feeling, he didn’t let it show for very long. 

“Nervous?” He asks with a wide grin. Harry is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating. 

_I found him. I found him. I found him. Wait, Harry what are you doing? Get a grip on yourself._  He shakes his hair out before swiping it to the side. He shifts his weight and becomes aware of his exposed dick.  _Shit._

He’s quick to fix himself, though he still catches the ~~extremely handsome~~  lad across from him staring out of the corner of his eye.

“A bit yeah,” He says, answering the question. And then, remembering what he’s done, adds, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” and scurries across the room to get a napkin.

“Oh, no harm done, love. I was just about to throw these babies out,” The mystery man replies easily, grabbing the napkins out of Harry’s hands, carefully skimming Harry’s fingers with his own. 

He then thrusts his hand toward Harry for him to shake.  

“I’m Louis, by the way.” Louis’ cold hand sends chills up Harry’s arm.

“Harry.” He replies with a coy smile. 

Then, unable to think of anything more to say, he supplements the silence with, “Your hands are cold.”

Harry’s eyes widen with the realization of what he’d just said.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

But Louis just brushes it off with a smooth, “Well that’s because  _I_  washed my hands. Much like you should be doing.” He smirks.

“Right, right.” Harry saunters over to the sinks.

Louis whistles as Harry washes his hands.

“Wow, you really are nervous, what with forgetting to wash your hands and all,” Louis says as he pulls himself up onto the counter above the sinks.

_More like nervous that I’m gonna ruin my chances with you._

 “Which is totally ridiculous,” Louis continues, “Because, I mean, look at you, you’re all that the media could ever want in a rising star. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Harry blushes at that, somehow mustering up the courage to retort, “And you must be nervous as well, what with the rambling and all.”

Louis pouts, but Harry is quick to recover with, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty cute, but it’s also highly unnecessary.”

Louis hops off the counter before Harry can catch his expression. He turns around with his phone in hand, and gestures for Harry to come closer to him. Louis wraps his arm around his waist, and Harry shutters at the gentle, somehow familiar touch.

“Sorry,” Harry gets out, “It’s a bit chilly in here’s all.”

“Oh,” Louis says good-naturedly, “Take my jacket then.” Before Harry can protest, Louis is thrusting his grey, knitted jumper against Harry’s chest. “Ah-ah-ah, just keep it Harold, for good luck or whatever.”

Harry puts it on and rolls up the sleeves. It fits him nicely and goes excellently with the scarf that he’s sporting, and Louis tells him so.

“And you look fine without it, too,” Harry says reassuringly, inspecting the slim cut blue button down shirt that Louis has on along with a black tie and the glorious thighs that are (regretfully) covered by Louis’ skinny jeans. 

“Right, so where were we?” Louis asks, looking around.

“Ah,” Louis says, his eyes resting on the phone in his hand. “We are going to take a picture together.” He says smiling.

“What for?” Harry asks.

“Because how cool would it be if I got a picture with a celebrity before he becomes famous??”

“Cool, I guess. But what if I don’t become famous?”  _What if I’m a total failure? What if I never get be with_ _you again because I don’t get through?_

“Well then I can use it to tell the riveting story of how I, an innocent, virtuous young man, got a stranger’s pee all over my favorite shoes, but was then persuaded to forgive him by that stranger’s magical, cherubic superpower’s. Maybe I’ll make it into a book…or a movie. Then we’d both be famous.”

_I’m in love. How could I let such an incredibly charming stranger take such a hold on me? What are you_ _doing Styles?_  

Staring. Harry was staring, with wide eyes, open lips and a repulsion towards anything that didn’t involve Louis. 

“Shit, I’m rambling again, aren’t I. Let’s just take the damn picture.” Louis holds up his phone and snaps the picture. He shoves the phone into his back pocket and gathers his papers.

“You probably have to get going too, don’t you?” Louis asks. 

Harry nods.

“Well, see you around I guess.” Louis says, walking towards the door, a little too slowly to be in the hurry that he was projecting.  He pulls it open just as Harry snaps out of his hazy thoughts.

“Louis, wait!” Harry yells franticly. Louis turns back, one foot in the bathroom and the other in the hallway.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, almost longingly.

“How will I get this back to you?” Harry gestures towards the sweater.

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis calls back, “I’m sure we’ll find each other again.”

He winks knowingly at Harry, and then disappears into the sea of people outside the door.


End file.
